


Oliver's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by TigStripe



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bad Luck, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Oliver's In Love, One Shot, Stubbed Toe, brunch date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigStripe/pseuds/TigStripe
Summary: Oliver gets ready to meet his friend for a brunch date when things...don't really go as well as they could.ORRead the title.





	Oliver's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Oliver just wasn’t having a good day.

When his alarm clock went off that morning, he must have slapped it straight off the end table and unplugged it in the process, because it never went off again. He’d owe the hotel for the replacement clock later. He woke up over an hour later than he’d intended, with cobwebby thoughts swimming about in his head regarding the day he had planned. This was  _ not _ how it was supposed to start out.

The air in the hotel room was too chilly, which likely compounded his desire to stay in bed, under the mostly adequate bedding, and when he stepped down onto the floor, his heel slipped, sending him straight onto his tailbone. With a bit of a growl, he made his way to his feet and massaged his rear. Talk about getting up on the wrong side of the bed.

Breakfast was a non-issue. He had plans to meet someone for a meal in a short while, but first, he had to make some preparations. He made the necessary phone calls, but most of the places he contacted were actually closed. In despair, he turned to the Internet for help in finding replacement establishments for what he needed, but few results turned up. Despite everything, he didn’t give up hope completely, and turned to his personal professional in the information gathering field.

Too bad Felicity didn’t pick up her phone.

Now, with his appointment looming closer, Oliver had started to sweat,  _ just _ a little bit. He jumped into the shower - banging his head on the curtain rod in the process - and got water up his nose more than once while cleaning. Soap did not mix well with the sinuses, and his tears didn’t seem to be helping the burning sensation at the front of his face. At least it smelled good?

A quick scrub and he was out, but he soon found that the hotel staff had skipped his room when stocking towels. He huffed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to center himself as he drip-dried a little before moving into the larger part of the hotel. He dried off with some extra clothes he’d brought, silently happy Thea had suggested the extra shirt. As he turned away from his suitcase, however, he slammed one of the little toes of his left foot straight onto the corner post of the bed, sending a sharp surge of pain up his leg.

Tending to the toe was simple enough, although the throbbing was going to be annoying. Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t have time to elevate it; he had a brunch date with someone important, and he wasn’t about to miss that rendezvous for a stupid stubbed toe. He doubled the sock on his left foot for a little extra cushioning and continued getting ready.

Most of his clothes were fine, but the overshirt he’d intended to wear was conspicuously missing from his luggage. Oliver ran his hands down his face, stopping them over his mouth to muffle a short shout. This wasn’t going well at all, and he was still going to be late!

Improvisation had been one of Oliver’s strong suits since his exile, but he found he had little to work with. Instead, he opted to wear the (ugh) damp t-shirt he had used to towel off, as well as a pair of cargo shorts that Thea had somehow managed to slip into his things without him noticing. At least  _ something _ was accidentally going right today.

With only a few minutes to spare before he was officially late, Oliver hightailed it to the café near the hotel where he’d agreed to meet for brunch. It didn’t take him long to get there, despite a throbbing toe and the fact that his shirt clung to his body rather inappropriately. He was thankful for the sunglasses he’d brought along to help hide his face from the people he passed on the sidewalk - they certainly didn’t need to realize that Oliver Queen was practically limping down the road in a shirt that almost looked too small, did they?

The café was bustling with people, which Oliver found rather strange for a Tuesday at midday, but he managed to find an abandoned table off to the side, where he put up his sore foot in the seat chair next to him while he waited for service.

“Can I help you, sir?” a waiter asked, pad and pen at the ready. She looked surprisingly happy to be so clobbered at work, at least to Oliver.

“Can I just get some water for now? I’m waiting on someone,” he replied with a friendly smile.

“Sure thing. Lemon?”

“Ah, no. No thank you.”

She about-faced and headed off toward the kitchen, Oliver’s eyes lingering on her as she left. She was cute, with a bright smile and dark hair she kept out of her face using the café’s branded ballcap. It was a nice look. The spring in her step uplifted Oliver’s spirits, just a little, and he realized he was smiling after her for no reason. How embarrassing.

When she returned, he noticed a distinct problem: three lemon slices had been  _ dunked _ into the water, slushing around at the bottom of the glass.

“Oh. I asked for no lemon,” Oliver muttered. It wasn’t that he was picky - he’d just read enough articles (or heard Thea and Felicity recite them) on spreading germs in restaurants to know not to handle lemon wedges in tea or water.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll get you a fresh water. That was my mistake!” Undeterred, the waiter reached down for his water, but her hand slipped and it splashed clear across Oliver’s body, soaking his entire front. Ice dripped off of his shorts and onto the floor, and suddenly the world felt like it was firing at him with cold guns on high.

“I’m  _ so _ sorry,” the waiter pleaded, grabbing a hand towel she kept on her apron and handing it to Oliver. He took it with gratitude and patted the front of his shorts gingerly at first. “I’ll go get some more towels for you. Please don’t leave.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Oliver called after her as she rushed off, but he had lied. He noticed the shivers beginning. This wasn’t a good situation. But at least he hadn’t been joined by-

“Ollie!”

Oh.

_ Of course. _

Oliver looked up to see Barry walking up to the table, hand over his head as he waved. His smile lit up the room, and Oliver no longer cared about the ice water soaking into his underwear. He hastily stood to his feet and waved back, a little timidly.

“Woah, are you okay?” Barry asked, eyeing Oliver’s soaked torso. “You look like you went for a swim in your clothes.”

“I’m fine, just a rough morning,” Oliver replied with a chuckle. They sat down at the same time, but Oliver made sure to sit on a dry chair - it just so happened to be closer to Barry’s seat.

“Can’t say I’m complaining about the view, though,” Barry teased with a wink as he poked Oliver’s chest. Looking down, there was practically nothing left to the imagination about Oliver’s gym habits. He crossed his arms and looked up at Barry with a distracted smirk.

“Here you are, sir, and I’m so sorry,” Oliver’s waitress pleaded once more as she handed him a small stack of hand towels. She wiped down the destroyed part of the tablecloth before giving the two men a sorrowful smile. “I’ll give you a minute before I take your orders. And thank you for being so patient with me! It’s my first day.”

Barry’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Well, congratulations. Uh, he’ll be fine. He doesn’t get cold.”

Oliver shot him a dirty look, but Barry didn’t see/ignored it.

The waitress hobbled off, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder as she did so. Oliver noticed a few people staring at him, likely due to the scene they’d caused, and found himself blushing out of sheer circumstance.

“Should we go?” Barry asked quietly, taking note of the stares as well. “I can get us to STAR Labs in, like, ten seconds.”

“No, don’t,” Oliver replied. “I wanted brunch with my boyfriend, and I’m going to have brunch with my boyfriend, regardless of what the universe is telling me.”

Barry’s expression darkened. “What does  _ that _ mean?”

Despite himself, Oliver chuckled as he divulged the goings on of his morning. Barry’s expression flexed from shock to surprise to astonishment, with a few laughs in between. By the time Oliver finished his story, they were both laughing, and his body felt much warmer than before.

The waitress took their orders without incident, and the two went back to discussing their plans for the rest of the day. Oliver was nervous about things going wrong, after what he’d just experienced, but every time he pointed out a possibility, Barry just waved it off and smiled, and Oliver couldn’t help but take his stance on the matter.

Brunch continued without incident, interrupted only momentarily by Oliver reaching over and putting his hand on Barry’s before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Oliver just sighed and smiled. “You made my day so much better just by sitting down.”

Barry grinned as he leaned into Oliver’s shoulder with his own. “That’s sweet. You know, no one believes me when I tell them all the things you say to me. They doubt you even have the capability of being affectionate.”

“Let them doubt,” Oliver said with a playful pout. They both laughed.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Barry said, his smile soft and honest.

Oliver smiled back. It was something he was getting used to doing more and more, thanks to Barry. “Thanks for coming.”

As they continued their brunch date, Oliver started to think about the past few hours. He’d been through a lot in a relatively short amount of time, but it had all vanished the moment Barry had walked up to his table. Looking over at Barry, with his striking features and lovable laugh, Oliver couldn’t help but smile. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day, after all.


End file.
